


Comfort

by niceboulder



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-04-30 15:56:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5169716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niceboulder/pseuds/niceboulder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas and Andy are in for a long night when a conversation doesn't go quite as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set after 6x07  
> I wrote this to take my mind of worrying about tonight's episode. I just want Thomas to be okay, is that too much to ask? (Probably.)

The servant's hall was verging on empty by the time the summer sun finally set. The Bateses had long since gone home, and Carson and Mrs Hughes had chose to dine at their cottage that evening. It was only when Molesley announced he was going to bed, and Thomas looked up from his chair by the fire that he realised how very few people remained. He could hear Daisy clattering away in the kitchen, and Baxter was still sewing something for Her Ladyship in the corner. Even Andy, who usually was one of the last to retire, had already gone. 

"I should be off too," he muttered, folding his paper as he stood.

Baxter looked up from her work and smiled at him, before furrowing her eyebrows slightly and saying "Thomas, have you seen Andy this evening?"

"Come to think of it, I haven't."

"Oh. Well, he was looking for you before they had their dinner. Musn't've been that important." She smiled again, looking away. "I shouldn't be down here for much longer."

Thomas nodded, and bid her farewell. His conversations with Baxter, despite how long they had known each other, had been rather short of late. Perhaps her new friendships with Molesley and the others made her options for conversation less scarce, and after all, he wasn't exactly people's first choice for a fun time.

It wasn't like he minded. He was used to it. And he was getting more and more used to it by the day.

 

Thomas wasn't paying attention as he navigated the familiar stairways to his room, choosing to focus more on what Andy could have wanted from him. The young footman hadn't need him for much anything recently, but Thomas had promised himself not to think of that too often. By the time he reached his room, he was settled on the idea that Andy must have been told to deliver a message from Carson, or someone. Nothing too important.

 

He barely had time to take off his waistcoat before there was a gentle knock from behind him and he turned to see Andy poking his head through the door. Maybe it was important after all.

"Mr Barrow," he started, looking vaguely unsure, "I was wondering if I might have a word."

Thomas briefly considered saying no, but something held him back from whatever sarcastic comment was brewing his mind this time. He beckoned Andy in.

"I hear you've been looking for me," Thomas said as Andy shut the door.

"Miss Baxter said you'd gone up when I came in from the courtyard."

"Why were you out there?"

"It-It's not important," Andy stuttered, wringing his hands for a second before he quickly stuffed them in his pockets. "I wanted to thank you for helping me with my reading, and I'm sorry you're not teaching me anymore."

"That's what friends are for I suppose. We had a good run." Thomas took a seat on his bed, and picked up a book from his nightstand, trying desperately to signify that this conversation was over, for there was nowhere else it could go in his mind but down.

 

Andy seemed to have other ideas and the footman practically sprang towards him, crossing the room in half a second or less to sit in the small gap Thomas had left. He bowed his head trying to recapture Thomas' attention, and Thomas couldn't help but be reminded of the very times Andy had been talking about. The late nights of sitting with Andy in one of their rooms, books and papers scattered between them had been something Thomas had thoroughly enjoyed.

"We are friends, Mr Barrow," Andy assured. He took the book from Thomas, forcing the underbutler to look at him, even if it was just out of the corner of his eyes. "Me and Miss Baxter are you friends, you know that right?"

"That's kind of you to say." Thomas clenched his jaw, not sure of what else to say, and looked back towards the nightstand.

"It's true!" Andy asserted, any trace of the nerves he had when he entered the room seemingly gone.   He put the book down on the quilt, and turned so his body was facing Thomas'. "You think I'd be here if it weren't true?"

"...No," Thomas forced out, realising the battle had been lost as he felt the corners of his lips betray him. The footman beamed.

 "So there are no hurt feelings about me learning with Mr Dawes?"

"None." 

"I just didn't want to think I was avoiding you. Like last time," he added sheepishly. Now it was his turn to look away.

"Last time," Thomas said, pausing to reach into his top draw and take out a flask, "you were avoiding me. Drink?" he asked, tilting it towards Andy. The footman shook his head and Thomas noted that his eyes hadn't strayed for long. 

"That's what I actually wanted to talk about. You know why I avoided you." 

"It's been made clear, yes." Thomas tried to sound calm, but his thoughts were running wild with the possibility of  _all this_  coming up again. It seemed to be an annual occurrence, as though whatever cruel god there was got his jollies from putting Thomas through awkward conversations about his nature with devastating ends.

 

Andy clenched his fists, bracing himself as much for what was about to transpire as Thomas. He found it valiant that Andy was finding it difficult to do what he had to. Being so unwilling to part with him, made his confession of friendship seem somewhat real. He understood, of course. He wanted Andy to succeed, and there was no way that could happen with Thomas holding him back. 

"You have certain preferences and... And-" Andy trailed off, looking around the room desperately, as though if he would find his words in the corner.

Thomas swallowed harshly. "And you're not comfortable with it?" he supplied, pursing his lips and trying very hard to contain any trace of emotion. Andy turned back to face him, his mouth open and eyebrows raised.

"No!" he exclaimed, the look of surprise still lingering. "The problem is I think I'm... too comfortable with it."  

Thomas was taken aback. "What are you trying to say?" he spluttered. 

Andy had never seen Thomas look quite as unprofessional as he did now, with his eyes wide and jaw slack, and it brought a small smile to his face. He quickly shook himself out of it to focus on the task at hand, but not before the other man saw his soft look, causing the underbutler's expression to become even more amusing. 

"I just want to know how you know what you feel." 

Thomas swallowed, composing himself and trying very hard to figure out what precisely was going on. "It's just something you know, Andy. There's no mystery."

"But how?"

"Why do need to know how?" His expression had morphed into one of frustration, and he hastily uncapped the flask and took a hurried swig. 

"Are you really going to make me spell it out Mr Barrow?", Andy huffed. He stood suddenly, pushing himself away from Thomas, and putting a hand to his forehead. Thomas edged forward, just about to reach out to him as Andy turned back around. He held the bridge of his nose, and took a deep breath before he began to speak."I want to know if the fact you are constantly on my mind is just friendship!" His attempt to calm himself had failed, and by the end of his sentence he was practically hissing his words in a desperate attempt to keep quiet. This conversation was really not one he wanted anyone to interrupt. "If the fact that when Daisy smiles at me I don't feel even half as happy as when you do it means I am wrong too! I want to know how you know your own heart."

 

By the end of his short rant, Andy remembered to breath. Thomas seemed to look ill, and Andy immediately regretted every word that had ever said. The two men stared at each other, both daring each other to say something, before Thomas opened his mouth. It took a few seconds for any sound to come out, and a few more before those sounds were anything resembling the English language. Andy could've sworn it was the longest minute of his life.

 

"You... want to know if you're like me?" Thomas whispered. 

"That's half of it." 

Thomas nodded, lips pursed. "And the other half?"

"I want to know how you think about me." 

Thomas inhaled sharply. "We are friends."

Andy brought his hand to his face again, unsatisfied with the answer. "So you just look at me and Miss Baxter and like us both the same?" he blurted angrily.

He didn't mean to loose his temper and he wasn't entirely sure he had, but in the suffocating silence of the Thomas' room he felt like he couldn't've come off worse if he had yelled slurs at the man for the whole Abbey to hear. He hadn't wanted to raise his voice, especially since he'd done just that when Thomas had offered to teach him to read. He had expected this conversation to go a different way. He'd heard from other members of staff that Thomas had been rather forward with his advances in the past, and standing in front of him right now, whilst Thomas kept his distance, wouldn't meet his gaze and insisted they were just friends, Andy felt like a fool. 

"I'm sorry, Mr Barrow. I should go." He nodded sharply, fists balled by his sides and turned swiftly to the door.

 

"Andy. Wait." The footman turned quicker than he thought he could, to find himself face to face with Thomas, who must've risen from his bed when Andy went to leave and was reaching out as if to grab him. His hands fell to his sides, and he straightened his shirt. Thomas' mouth was dry. He took a deep breath. "I like you far more than Miss Baxter."

"But only as a friend," Andy sighed, bowing his head.  After all the warnings, he hadn't expected it to go this way. He shouldn't've assumed anything, and now he'd really gone and put his foot in it. 

"I wouldn't say that," Thomas smiled, looking quite like Andy knew him for a split second before fear crept up on his features once more and he tried to back away. Andy could've sworn his heart stopped in that second.

"What would you say?" Andy prompted, realising that the blunt method might've been Thomas Barrow's old style, but that didn't mean it was who he was now. 

"It's not easy for me to say these things, Andy. Not anymore." 

"Try. Please."

"I'm rather fond of you, but thats as far as I'll go right now."

"I understand. I'll wait you know."

"Why?" Thomas' voice cracked, and Andy looked down at him to see the damages of a lifetime he had heard rumours of etched into Thomas' face. He hated to see the other man vulnerable and broken, but at this moment there was something reassuring in his pain. The great Mr Barrow, always so aloof, had a heart after all, and one Andy could easily believe had been broken many times before. 

He sat on Thomas' bed, back to the near wall and long legs hanging over the side. He patted the space next to him and the underbutler sat down cautiously. Andy smiled to himself, and caught Thomas' eye. For a moment they smiled together, at each other, and Andy was content to let this feeling, this strange mix of joy and fear and sorrow and warmth, carry him through the night. He looked back to the wall in front of them and waited.


	2. Chapter 2

Time passed. Andy wasn't sure how long - he hadn't a clue as to when he got there - but the gentle ticking of the clocks on Thomas' fireplace had filled the silence between them for long enough. 

"I'm not blind to girls, Mr Barrow," he stared, unsure if this was the best place to restart the conversation, but he had to say something. The ticking could've easily driven him insane.

"-Thomas," he interrupted. "We're too far into this for you not to use my name." 

Andy chuckled. "I'm not blind to girls,  _Thomas_. But I'm not blind to you either." 

Maybe it was the sound of his name on Andy's lips, or the sentiment, or even just the way the lamp illuminated Andy's face, bathing him in a warm glow, but Thomas felt lighter than he had done in years. He wanted to let go, to dive head first into all the little things Andy was suggesting, to have- But no. He couldn't. He had to stay logical. Above this. 

 

"If there's a chance for you to be with a woman," Thomas said slowly, "have a normal life, why are you here?"

"Because I don't want no girl. Not now. Not when I have you."

Thomas ignored him. "Daisy's a nice girl. We were friends once. Well, she was smitten with me and I pretended to like her to piss off a footman, which is about as close as I get to most people."

"You're not listening to me!" Andy exclaimed, reaching over and taking Thomas' hands in his own.  "Look, I don't like Daisy. I don't want her. I don't want any girl. I want you."

"I don't understand," Thomas stuttered, looking down at where Andy was rubbing circles with his thumbs, "You said... You said you weren't sure. About how you felt. You wanted my help."

"It's not an easy conversation to start, Thomas." Andy sighed. "I probably could've come up with a better angle, but I was testing the waters. If I'd've been wrong about this I could've just blown it over as confusion."

"Good thing you weren't wrong."

 

More time passed in silence, which was more comfortable than the last time. Both men had small smiles on their faces, staring at that wall, as Andy still held onto Thomas' gloved hand. The ticking caught Andy's attention again, and he stood up to get a closer look at the various clocks Thomas collected, placing Thomas' hand gently back in his lap before he crossed the room. 

 

"Are these yours?" he asked squinting slightly to get a better look in the low light. The clocks were all different shapes and sizes, somehow all ticking in unison, and Andy was somewhat in awe of the intricate patterns that surrounded each face. Most of them were new, a product of Thomas trying to keep himself occupied in the past few years.

"They're in my room, aren't they?" Thomas chuckled briefly. 

"From what the others say," Andy said, turning back around and leaning up against the wall, "that's not really a guarantee."

Thomas' expression soured, and Andy felt instantly guilty. For just a moment Thomas had been back to his usual self, and he'd gone and opened his big mouth. 

"What do they say about me?"

"Uh," Andy hesitated, considering briefly whether to lie and say that the servants all thought Thomas was as delightful as a rainbow made of kittens. "It started as little stuff. Like ' _don't trust Mr Barrow, Andy, he's bad news, he'll lead you astray_ ', that kind of thing. It got more specific after I ignored them. Every time I let you help me, or we did something together, they'd warn me away more. I'm sorry I listened to them." 

Andy hung his head, and Thomas stood up to comfort him, crossing the room with as much confidence as he could muster, and taking Andy's hands in his. 

"You're not the first, and you certainly won't be the last," Thomas said looking up at the the footman's glum face. "I've not done a lot to put myself in the the good books around here."

Andy looked at him now, and tightened his grip."I wouldn't say that, I've heard some good things from Daisy. Like how you helped find His Lordship's dog."

"I stole the dog and then lost it," Thomas countered. 

Andy looked amused by that confession, which was the last thing Thomas was expecting. "Course you did. Well, you saved Lady Edith from a fire. Didn't set that, did you?" he grinned. 

"No, I didn't," Thomas conceded, offering a small smile in return. 

"And! You're always good to the children. You always make time for them."

"It's part of my job," Thomas said, shaking his head.

"I don't think your job description is giving Master George piggy backs."

"Fine. I like them very much."

"You're not a bad man, Thomas. I'm sure of it. You've just done bad things," Andy said, trying his best to convince him. Whilst he may not have succeeded, Thomas' heart felt full enough just from the attempt.

"You might be the only one to think that."

"I'll convince them." Something about his tone made Thomas hopeful he could succeed. 

 

They drifted back into the comfortable silence, and at some point Andy slid down the wall to be seated on the floor and Thomas moved around to join him. They sat, shoulders together, hands joined, with the cold wall behind them. Andy felt pretty content, despite the fact he was sure that nothing he had intended to say had been said, and positive his point had not yet been made. Thomas, however, was feeling his insecurities bubbling below his calm facade, and the only thing that seemed to be keep him from bursting was the hand around his. 

"You're not trying to trick me, are you?" Thomas said slowly. Andy furrowed his eye brows, confused at the sudden turn. "Tell the police about me?" Thomas clarified. 

"What?" Andy gasped. "God no. That's horrible. Who would do that?"

"It's come up." Thomas swallowed and shut his eyes. He didn't want to think about things like that right now. He didn't want to be paranoid, not with Andy. Not anymore. 

Andy leant his head on the underbutler's shoulder, trying to pull him out of whatever dark hole he was about to go down. 

"I wouldn't do that."

"I know."

 

Andy wondered, as more time passed in the silence he'd grown used to, if he would ever get to the point with Thomas Barrow. But sat there, with his head on the man's shoulder, their fingers laced together and the clocks ticking closer to two, he felt like they had reached an unspoken understanding. 

 

The silence continued to stretch out, and Andy felt his eyelids become heavy.  He had to be up in a few hours, but there was no way he wanted to sleep. Not when there was still so much left to say. He was worried that if none of it was said, then this conversation would drift away and not be returned to. He didn't want his non-existent relationship with Thomas to end in this night, when it was so close to something more. Yet the battle to keep his eyes open felt like one he could easily lose. 

 

"Andy?" Thomas whispered, having felt Andy's grip loosen. 

"Yeah," he yawned, rubbing at his eyes.

"So you like me?" The question was so simple, but it felt like a weight off Thomas' shoulders that he didn't know he was carrying. 

"I do."

"Like I like you?" Thomas said, looking down with a small gin. 

"I hope so," the footman muttered into Thomas' shoulder.

 

Thomas took a moment to think before this blissful second became harsh and real again. A wave of happiness had washed over him at Andy's words. He couldn't remember a time where someone else had had to chase him. Thomas was so used to making the first move that this was all a novelty to him. Thomas doubted many people had every hoped for his affections, let alone be worried that he might not like them in return.  

"What do you want to do about it?" he asked as the beat of clocks brought him back from his thoughts. 

"I want to be with you."

"You understand that we can't," Thomas said carefully. 

This seemed to wake Andy up, and he lifted his head so that they were looking each other in the eyes. "It won't be easy but that doesn't mean we can't."

 

He yawned again and Thomas saw this as his cue to end the conversation before Andy could manage to convince him.

"You should go to bed," Thomas instructed as he stood up. He wiped his hands on his trousers, before offering them to Andy to help him up. Andy took them without thinking and stood, making him one step closer to the inevitable end. 

"Wait, what?" He said, putting Thomas's words together rather slowly in his head. "I'm not going."

"You have to."

Andy stood dumbfounded at the side of the room as Thomas walked back to his bed. 

"Come on. Go," Thomas said, waving at the door. "You're tired."

"I'm not leaving until we come to agreement," Andy said forcefully, trying hard to stand his ground despite the fact Thomas was right and he was exhausted. 

Thomas took off his tie. "We'll talk about this in the morning."

"But-" Andy attempted. 

"Go! I don't want Mr Carson to get angry because you've fallen asleep instead of serving His Lordship's lunch." 

Andy huffed, annoyed that Thomas had a good point. Although, if he had the chance talk to Thomas longer he could fall asleep in His Lordship's lap whilst serving the vegetables and not care. "One last thing."

"What?" Thomas span around to face the other man, exasperated. 

 

It was now or never. 

 

Andy took one step forward, so their chests were almost pressed together.

"What are you doing?" Thomas whispered, Andy's one move removing any tone of certainty from his voice. 

"Standing."

"Smart aleck," he breathed. 

Andy looked into the other man's eyes took a deep breath before leaning forward and pressing his lips to Thomas'. 

It was a far gentler kiss than Thomas was used to, being more familiar with hurried kisses in the backs of clubs or down dark alleyways whilst the threat of being caught loomed above him, but it was over before he had time to react and Andy was already opening the door. He turned before he left, smiling softly. 

"Goodnight Thomas."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was sad for a moment this morning when I remembered that there was no new Downton, but then I realised that a Downton-less Sunday is a Sunday where they can't hurt Thomas more.
> 
> I really hope you enjoy this chapter, and join me in signing a petition to give Andy more scenes and a back story other than "I'm from the city and can't read" in the CS.

Thomas stood in the middle of his room, and moved his hand up to touch his lips. Andy had kissed him. With his mouth. Just now. On Thomas' mouth. Andy. 

It was safe to say Thomas was positively gobsmacked. 

Something about being kissed by Andy had unlocked the part of him that had buried the feelings he had for the footman. Suddenly, he was overwhelmed by the possibility that this could happen, that he could have a relationship with someone he cared about. He didn't want to be cautious,or send the other man away. He wanted this. 

 

He wasn't sure how long it took to break from his Andy-induced daze, but the second he did he scrambled towards the door. He yanked it open and if anyone had saw him they probably would've thought he had finally snapped and was officially a mad man.

He made a sharper turn than he could manage, nearly swinging himself into the wall as he went, and made his way down the corridor with hasty steps, praying it was late enough for no one to notice, let alone pay attention to, the heavy sounds of his footsteps. 

 

When he reached Andy's door, he stopped. With the aftermath of the kiss still lingering in his thoughts, he had barrelled over here without considering whether this was a good idea. They could talk in the morning. Just because the night was over didn't mean this whole thing between them was over. He steadied himself, fully prepared to turn around and leave and actually sleep at last, when a small rap at the door in front of him made him stop. 

"I know you're out there," came the faintest whisper. Thomas smiled - of course he wasn't as subtle as he thought he was. 

 

Looking around, he quietly let himself in. He shut the door behind him slowly, offering Andy a pointed look as he did so. Andy was standing by his bed, taking off his shirt. Thomas briefly thought that it was a shame Andy was wearing an undershirt, but that was a something to be addressed another day. 

"I thought you might come," Andy smiled, throwing his shirt onto the other bed with his jacket. 

Thomas stepped forward, suddenly overcome with the nerves he thought he'd managed to banish. He steeled himself with a deep breath and hoped that his face was not betraying him  "It's rude to just kiss a man and leave."

"Thought you wanted me to leave?"  Andy teased. 

"Not like that! I wanted you to leave quietly so that I could deny everything tomorrow. I can't deny that!"

"Would you want to?" said Andy. He tried his hardest to maintain his teasing tone but the thought of Thomas trying to deny this night made his chest ache. 

"I don't want to hurt you, Andy," he confessed and Andy's expression softened. 

"You won't. I won't let you."

 

Thomas reached out and Andy gladly let him take his hands. There was something about Thomas making these tiny gestures that made Andy's heart race. It was odd how quickly things had changed in that night alone. 

"We really can talk about this all tomorrow, you know," Andy assured. "As long as you keep your word I won't mind."

"I know. And I know you need to sleep, but can I- just for a little while- stay here? I don't want this to end just yet."

"Me neither. Sit with me." Andy sat on his bed, and Thomas made to sit on the other, until Andy raised his eyebrows at him as though to question what on earth he thought he was doing. Thomas sighed, trying his hardest to look hard done by, but he couldn't contain the small grin that was threatening to break though. He hadn't really had anyone to joke with since Jimmy had left, and even that had always been tainted by the kissing incident. Jimmy could've insisted that they were past it until the cows came home, but Thomas was convinced he knew otherwise. 

 

"I wanted this conversation, this night, to go differently," Andy admitted as Thomas once more took hold of his hand. 

"Did you?" Thomas asked, as he drew careless patterns into Andy's skin with his thumbs. 

"I wanted to be brave and forward and tell you how much I cared," Andy said as he took a deep breath. Maybe another day he'd tell Thomas about his misplaced assumptions, but right now, this was enough. Everything felt like it was finally fitting into place, and all he needed Thomas to know was that he cared. 

"This way was good," Thomas said, shuffling slightly closer. "I like this way. Just sitting and talking."

Andy leant into the underbutler's side. "Me too."

 

"I was content with friendship, you know," Thomas mentioned sometime later as the silence rose again. It was different in Andy's room. Without the clocks, there was nothing to guide him through the silence and he felt as though could easily be suffocated by the pressing weight of the house had Andy not been there, holding onto him, keeping him away from his own thoughts.

Andy hummed in response, his eyes shut as he rested his head on Thomas' shoulder, still mostly awake but feeling as though that wouldn't be the case for long. 

"Everyone thought I was trying to corrupt you," Thomas continued, looking down at Andy's peaceful face. "I just wanted to be your friend." 

Andy yawned, pulling himself off of Thomas' arm to look at him better. "I am your friend, Thomas. A friend who wants to kiss you and hold you and stuff, but still a friend." 

Thomas had no doubt that Andy meant it. There was something about how the footman would look at him in these moments, when he was close to burying himself in his thoughts and Andy managed to stop it, that Thomas treasured. 

 

"You know," Andy said after the silence had filled the room again, "if you've just answered me when I asked how you felt, we wouldn't be tired tomorrow - today even."

 "Weren't you more tired a minute ago?" Thomas asked, ignoring the fact that he probably was at fault for whatever trouble they'd get into tomorrow.  

"I've gone past tired and am straight back through to wide awake. Besides, it's that weird time in the night where everything you were too nervous to say during daylight suddenly seems like a good idea."

Thomas knew that time well, and briefly considered if that was why he was suddenly so open to Andy's feelings, when he hadn't been earlier. 

"So what are you to nervous to tell me in daylight?" Thomas asked playfully, putting that thought to the back of his mind. 

"Besides the fact I'm sweet on you?" Andy smiled back. Thomas nodded and Andy seemed to grow very serious, as if remembering something that wouldn't fit into the joke but what important nonetheless. "There was another reason I avoided you when everyone told me about you." Thomas wasn't surprised by this confession, but he wasn't looking forward to the rest of it either. Andy looked at him, and Thomas smiled reassuringly. Whatever he had to say wouldn't change things. "I want you to know. I think you should know everything about me."

"I'd like to."

"There was this lad," Andy started slowly, looking around the room before settling back on Thomas face, "who lived a few houses away from me during the war. He was my brother's age. He got caught kissing the boy who worked at the chippy. No one told the police but everyone knew. His parents kicked him out, he enlisted the next day and was dead in a month.  It's never really left me and since I couldn't stand to be thought of that way, so I pretended it wasn't like me and I did what others wanted, but I-I don't want to mind anymore." 

Thomas nodded, and then squeezed Andy's hands. "It's not easy to change how you think, no matter how much want to." 

"I read the word lieutenant today, I think I can manage." 

"I'm impressed, that's a hard word," Thomas marvelled, unable to hide his pride.

"It's a stupid word! The word left is nowhere in it!" Andy laughed, the gloom from his story no longer hanging over him. It was strange - he felt like he could breathe suddenly, and it was a relief he didn't know he had needed. He knew Thomas understood and would forgive him, but he hadn't realised how much he had needed his struggle to change how he had been made to think to be justified. Thomas may not have know how he was supposed to help, but just by being there he was making this better. 

 

Thomas wanted to find the words to reassure Andy, to tell him how he was sure that Andy could manage anything. He wanted to be able to comfort him better and be as good to Andy as Andy was to him. But for a man who always had something up his sleeve, he was rather drawing a blank.

Thomas leant forward to capture Andy's lips, and he had planned to pull away, but like most of Thomas' ingenious plans, it wasn't a good one. When Andy started to kiss back, Thomas knew for sure he was a lost cause.  

 All thoughts of Downton and London boys and tomorrows didn't seem to matter anymore. It could all wait. Did it even matter? All Thomas knew was Andy's mouth and Andy's hands and oh god Andy.

There was something about him, this footman from the city who wanted to work with the pigs and who seemed to think nothing but good things about others. He was different and he was special and he was practically perfect, and the underbutler delighted in being with him. And by some miracle, he had found good in Thomas and hadn't let it go. He could've kissed him forever, had he not been so fond of talking to him. There would be other kisses, and for those to take place, regrettably, this one would have to end.

"I've never been so glad not to share a room with Mr Molesley," Andy panted as they parted. 

Thomas leant back, trying to hide his smile as he wiped his face. "Just a kissing guideline for next time, don't bring up Molesley."

"So there'll be a next time?" Andy grinned. 

"Don't look so smug. People will talk," Thomas added. "Are you sure it won't bother you?" 

"Let them," he said firmly. He laced his fingers with Thomas', hoping that his affectionate touches had the same comforting effect on Thomas as Thomas' had on him. "I'm made of stronger stuff."

Thomas kissed him quickly instead of answering, not able to resist. He wanted to say more, to make Andy realise that this could, would, hurt. He wanted to be realistic, but with Andy here, looking into his eyes, god it was hard. 

 

"I was hoping you'd come outside," Andy mentioned after it became clear Thomas wasn't going to disagree with him again.

"What?" Thomas said, snapped out of his thoughts. 

"That's why I was in the courtyard. Earlier. I was hoping you'd come out and we could talk then," he clarified.

"Oh."

"I didn't want to seem eager."

Thomas chuckled, thinking about how un-eager wasn't the exact feeling this night had held. "Well, you failed there."

"I didn't fail," Andy pointed out, his tone light. "It took me a good few hours to kiss you and then you kissed me. If I was eager, I'd've wasted no time."

"Alright then, not eager - bad at getting to the point."

"I'll give you that one."

 

"So how are we going to manage this?" Thomas asked once the kiss had started to wear off, and some element of rational thinking was returning to his brain. 

"We'll sneak around," Andy suggested. He was mostly leaning on Thomas at this point, his earlier statement of having gone past tired no longer ringing true.

"You're terrible at sneaking! And you're a terrible liar. ' _I'm just borrowing a book, Mr Carson_ ' ' _where's the book_ ' ' _oh I forgot it, I'll get it tomorrow_ '," Thomas mimicked, recalling the conversation Andy had told him about a few weeks prior. "Honestly. No wonder he thought I was seducing you."

Andy let out a huff of jovial indignation. "I'm sure that one of the hall boys likes to sneak around at night, and no one has caught him."

"That hall boy - and tomorrow you'll be telling me which one so I can tell him off - is probably a lot better at sneaking than you." 

"I'll give it a go," Andy smiled easily. "I might even ask him for pointers."

"I'm not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?" Thomas asked, resigning himself to failure whilst gazing fondly at the other man's proud grin.

Andy answered with another kiss. 

 

The night wore on, mostly in silence, with the odd exchange every now and again. Nothing ever terribly important but memorable all the same. 

Thomas was sitting on the floor, his back against the cold metal frame, having vacated the bed after Andy had slumped onto him with another yawn a half hour before. One of Andy's knees was by his ear, as the footman was lying on his side, curled as far around Thomas as he could manage without falling off the bed, and he was stroking Thomas' hair with a lazy hand.

Thomas leaned into the gentle affection, quite content to sit like this forever. He glanced up to the window in the roof, where the light glow of the sun had began to trickle in. He could picture it, in this moment, the life he could have with Andy if everything was different. The kisses, the touches, even just the looks. The early mornings were something he hadn't considered grieving for until now, but the idea of waking up to Andy, and seeing him gradually become lit by the sunrise, it was a beautiful dream. 

He hadn't realised he was such a sap when he was sleep deprived. 

 

A yawn came from behind him, and Thomas smiled, snapped from his daydream. They had to be awake in an hour or two at most. If Andy didn't get some rest soon, he would be in a world of trouble with Carson.

"Sleep," Thomas instructed, taking the hand by his head and placing a small kiss to the thumb. "I'll cover for you. Tell them you're feeling ill and will come down at lunch if you get better."

"What about you?"

"I'll manage."

"You manage a lot of things. You shouldn't have to," Andy mumbled into his pillow. 

"I manage what I can handle and I can handle being tired," Thomas responded, lifting himself of the ground and taking a better look at nearly-sleeping footman. There was something beautiful about it, the other man fully at peace in his presence. Thomas couldn't be sure anything like this had happened around him before. "You, on the other hand," he said, taking a pause to place small kiss on Andy's forehead, "are mostly asleep in your undershirt and dress trousers. You might want to fix that before you're lost to the world."

"I don't want you to go," he whispered so softly that Thomas would've missed it if he hadn't still been inches away from the other man's face.

"I don't want to go," he assured Andy as he pulled away and opened the door a crack. He gazed down at the footman, who was quite clearly not going to move until Thomas came to fetch him later, and smiled fondly. "But I'll see you in six hours. You won't even notice I'm gone." 

"I always notice," Andy muttered, shifting slightly. 

"Goodnight Andy," Thomas smiled. 

"G'night."

  

He had expected this moment to feel final. The night had been and gone and now, and as he crept back to his room, the sun's warm glow gradually filling the corridor, he felt like it was anything but. There was more to be said, more to be decided, and more to know. Thomas was sure that when he was no longer in this strange sleep-deprived, lacking-judgement state that he would have to come to terms with everything that happened again, but he wasn't nervous. He should be nervous. After all, it was a terrible idea, really. It couldn't go well. Thomas knew as much, but he couldn't stop the smile on his face or the tiny flicker of hope that was making itself comfortable in his mind. 

 

Maybe he'd end it tomorrow. That would be the smart thing to do. 

But then again, Thomas thought as he shut himself in his room once more, how smart had he ever really been?


End file.
